Chapter 14
JADE
After we leave the training hall, Parker practically skips along the gravel path toward the main house. His cheeks are still flushed, hands gesturing wildly as he explains a play to me for the third time.
“You have to twist your wrist at the very last second, Mom. Right when the weight is on your front leg,” he prattles on without a pause. “Cayden—I mean, Mr. Miller—says most goalies watch for that millisecond. If you delay it, they’re toast.”
I nod, trying to make interested noises, but my mind is still back in that hall with the man who refuses to drop his guard while simultaneously stabbing his finger into my deepest insecurities.
The loud vibration in my coat pocket jars me. I reach for the phone, and when I see my mother’s name on the display, my stomach knots.
I stop on the path and wave Parker on. “Go ahead, Parker. I’ll be right there.”
“Okay!” he calls cheerfully over his shoulder, sprinting toward the terrace.
I take a deep breath and hit the green button. “Mom? Everything okay?”
“Jade, I’m standing in the middle of your kitchen,” her voice crackles.
She sounds breathless, a frantic tremor in her words.
In the background, I hear the familiar, irregular drip of the broken faucet over my sink.
“The mail is piling up, but there’s no sign of you. Where are you? Where is my grandson?”
I close my eyes, pressing my thumb and forefinger hard against the bridge of my nose. I hadn't told her about the exclusive assignment to spare her the worry, but that plan just went up in smoke.
“We’re not at the apartment, Mom. We’re fine,” I answer, pouring every ounce of energy into a calm tone. “Collins gave me a last-minute job. A profile where I have to shadow the subject 24/7. We won't be home for a few weeks.”
A sharp, disbelieving intake of breath rings through the speaker. “An assignment? Are you out of your mind? You don’t just take Parker on research trips! Where exactly are you?”
The bitter truth sticks like paste to the roof of my mouth.
My mother lived through the collapse eleven years ago.
She wiped my tears. She secretly threw away the shredded newspaper articles about Cayden’s revolving door of flings.
She held my hand when the doctor turned the ultrasound screen and the tiny heartbeat pulsed through the room.
She is the only person on earth who knows who Parker’s father is.
I feel the next lie rising, wanting to slip out effortlessly. But if there’s one person I can’t lie to, it’s Mom.
“We’re in Westmount,” I finally whisper. My throat is bone dry. “At Cayden Miller’s. In his villa.”
The silence on the other end says more than a thousand words. It’s the raw horror of a mother watching her daughter sprint toward a running buzzsaw.
“Have you completely lost your senses?” she finally whispers.
She doesn't yell, but the unbridled panic in her voice hits me like a blow to the gut. “You brought the boy into his house? You’re serving this man his own son on a silver platter after we’ve fought every single day for over a decade to prevent exactly that? ”
“I didn’t have a choice, Mom!” I hiss into the receiver, walking toward the trees, away from the house.
“There is always a choice.”
“Easy for you to say. Collins would have fired me on the spot. And you know our finances better than anyone. The co-pays for the care home aren't getting any smaller. My salary isn't enough anymore. I do this job, I deliver this profile, and with the bonus, we secure Dad’s care for the next year.”
A soft, brittle sob breaks through the line. The sound cuts into my soul; my mother almost never cries. Not even on the day my Dad stopped recognizing her and had to be moved.
“Mom? What happened?” I ask immediately. My defenses crumble. “Is it Dad?”
“He had an extremely bad episode last night,” she manages.
I hear the rustle of a tissue. “He was completely disoriented and lashed out, Jade. He fell and hit his head. The staff had to restrain him. The doctors say the neurological decline is accelerating. They moved him to the secure ward this morning.”
I claw my fingers into the rough bark of the old oak beside me until the pain anchors me. My father. The strong, invincible man who used to carry me on his shoulders through the woods, now tied to a hospital bed, terrified and trapped in his own fading mind.
“Oh God,” I whisper, eyes filling with hot tears. “Did they do X-rays? Is he in pain?”
“He’s sleeping now. They’re adjusting his meds,” she answers.
Her voice sounds ancient. “The secure ward means more intensive care. The facility management just gave me the paperwork. The co-pay is going up by nearly a thousand dollars a month. I didn’t know how to tell you.
I actually came over because I just wanted to hold you. ”
If there’s a God, I’d like to ask him what the hell he was thinking, piling all of this on my family. Instead, I straighten up, forcing my spine to hold and my knees to carry me. I cannot break. Not here. Not now.
“Listen to me, Mom,” I say with a firmness I scrape from my core. “Sign those papers. Don’t worry about the money. The bonus from the Chronicle is guaranteed. I’ll transfer every cent directly to the home. Dad will get the best care. We aren't letting him down.”
“Jade...” she starts, the exhaustion giving way back to that maternal fear.
“I worry about your father, yes. But I’m more afraid for you and my grandson.
If that man even begins to realize who he’s looking at.
.. Cayden Miller doesn't share. He takes what he thinks belongs to him. He has the millions and the vicious lawyers to tear you apart in any court in this country. If he finds out you’ve hidden his son for eleven years, he’ll take the boy out of pure, wounded pride. ”
“He won't find out,” I say, putting every bit of conviction into the words. I turn and walk slowly back over the gravel toward the massive villa. “He doesn't want kids, Mom. He told me right to my face at dinner. Kids are nothing but unpredictable distractions to him.”
“You’re playing with fire, child,” she whispers sadly. “And you always end up burned. He tore you to pieces back then. Don’t let him destroy the rest of your life now.”
“I won’t. I promise,” I answer firmly. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “Go home and rest. I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Tell Dad I love him the second he opens his eyes.”
“Take care of yourselves, Jade.”
“I will. I love you.”
The click of the disconnected call echoes in my ear. I stare at the dark screen.
My father is restrained in a secure ward.
My mother is breaking under the weight of it all.
And I am in the house of a man who could end my existence with one call to his lawyer.
And if that wasn't enough, I’m playing the loyal friend to Hailey every day, while I buried our pact in a Montreal hotel room an eternity ago.
I walk back and push the heavy glass door open, slipping silently through the back hallway, avoiding the kitchen so I don't run into Helena.
My body is on autopilot. On the second floor, I blindy pull open the door to one of the massive guest bathrooms. I step in, lock it, and turn the key twice before leaning against the wood.
The bathroom is absurdly large. Dark marble, heavy brass fixtures, fluffy white towels stacked neatly.
My knees give out without warning.
I slide down the door, landing hard on the cold tiles, pulling my legs tight against my body. The dam I’ve been holding up with everything I have simply collapses under the pressure.
The first tear burns hot on my cheek—a herald of the flood I can no longer control. I press both hands over my mouth, biting my palm to stifle the sobs. No one in this house can hear me. Not Parker, not the discreet staff, and certainly not the man probably brooding over business reports.
The sobbing shakes me relentlessly. It’s not a quiet, dignified cry. It’s an ugly, messy loss of control that makes my lungs burn and blurs my vision into a haze of salt water. My chest heaves in painful jolts as I sit on the floor, gasping for air.
The sheer volume of lies is eroding me. The lies to my mother. The lies to Hailey. The lies to the man whose eyes I see every day in my son’s face. I’m juggling flaming torches while balancing on a sagging wire.
I huddle on the hard tiles, face buried in my damp hands. For Collins, for Parker, and especially for Cayden Miller, I have to play the tough journalist who nothing rattles.
But here, on the cold floor of this flawless palace, I am just a woman at the end of her rope, terrified of losing the last of her life to a man who already broke her heart once.